


The Last Time I Break Down

by Krasimer



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Mess, Endgame Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Gay Richie Tozier, M/M, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Pennywise (IT) Being an Asshole, Pennywise (IT) is His Own Warning, Richie Tozier Being an Asshole, Richie Tozier Flirts, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Soft Eddie Kaspbrak, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 04:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20808197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: This story needs a happy ending – please, won’t you write us a happy ending –Don’t wedeservea happy ending?Richie and Eddie are a love story spanning twenty-seven years.(Yet another Eddie Lives AU)





	The Last Time I Break Down

Derry hadn’t changed.

In some ways, that might have been comforting if it didn’t mean the biggest thing that hadn’t changed. It was waiting for them again, like their lives had been folded in half and the edges pressed together.

Like the shittiest sort of origami.

Richie almost laughed at his own stupid joke, dropping his bag on the bed. The bed and breakfast is Quaint, apparently. The locals call it that – he mostly just remembers the fact that it was once a big manor house at the edge of town no one wanted to rent and no one could buy. Apparently, twenty-seven years makes a big fucking difference. Someone bought the damn thing and turned it into one of the better hotels in the area.

Twenty-seven years made a big difference in some ways.

In others, not so much.

Seeing Eddie Kaspbrak again had brought everything flooding back. That hadn’t changed. Richie was still just as gone over him as he had been at thirteen. At fourteen. At sixteen and finally leaving Derry.

The one thing he had been unwilling to leave behind.

Those big eyes and the quiet panic and the way he shifted and mumbled until he hit a topic he was confident on – that was all just the same. Little Eddie Kaspbrak, who lived in a bubble his mother had created. Only, he wasn’t little anymore, his mother was dead but he’d married someone just the same as her. Eddie had, by forgetting, by being made to forget, thrown himself back into the prison he had tried so hard to escape. The one he had broken out of to go save Bev and fight—

Richie threw himself onto the bed next to his bag, grumbling and pushing his glasses up.

A knock at his door kept him from grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes until they burst. He sat up slowly, frowning at the door. “Yeah?”

“It’s Eddie,” came the hesitant voice. “I…I need to talk to you.”

As if summoned by his thoughts.

“Alright,” Richie nodded. “Door’s open. Come on in – the water’s great.”

The door opened slowly, revealing Eddie an inch or two at a time. When it was open far enough for him to see Richie, his arm dropped down, curling around the edge of his jacket. “I…” he swallowed and Richie saw a glimpse of the fear in his eyes, remembered a flash of a small boy in shorts-too-short, a polo in some shade of pink. This was him. This was Richie’s boy.

Not that they had, as far as he remembered, ever been together.

But this was Richie’s boy.

All grown up.

“Eddie?”

“I needed to talk to you,” Eddie looked down at the floor, down at the space between his shoes, then nodded. He took a faltering step forward, then another until he found that point of confidence. He nudged the door shut behind him with a heel, uncaring and casual. It clicked shut slowly, leaving Eddie with nothing to manage besides where he was putting his hands.

And, apparently, he decided the best place for them was the sides of Richie’s face.

This close, his eyes were still beautiful, flecks of gold and green shimmering in them. “I’m remembering some stuff,” Eddie pinched his lips together, a crease between his eyes making Richie want to reach up and smooth it away. That was the sort of wrinkle someone only got when they were nervous a lot, or when they were always afraid. “And…And I remember looking at you when I was a kid,” he smiled, a little. “And thinking that it would be nice to hold your hand.”

Richie blinked a couple of times. “What?”

Eddie nodded, swallowing hard, his cheeks going almost too red. “I wanted to hold your hand and maybe kiss you and I still don’t know how to deal with that and I don’t want to forget it and—I don’t have any experience in this. Fuck, I went off and married someone who is basically my ma,” his nose wrinkled and Richie remembered having seen his face do that so many times. Every motion, every expression, was bringing back more and more memories.

Sitting in the same hammock, Eddie’s legs thrown across Richie’s lap until they were so tangled together they couldn’t tell where the other ended and they began.

Following him around the room as he panicked, his eyes wide and his heart pounding out of his chest. A projector malfunctioning – No, not a malfunction, that _fucking clown_ messing with them. Eddie had been having trouble breathing, his panic and anxiety clawing at his chest. Richie had been more concerned with that than the giant clown that had popped up seconds later.

Holding Eddie’s face and begging him to look at him, to focus on Richie and not on the fact that his arm was broken. Not on the fact that Pennywise had touched him, threatened him, been about to eat him until Richie and Bill had come running.

Because if they had to die, then he wanted the last thing he saw to be Eddie.

And the last thing Eddie saw to be Richie, not the ugly death coming for them.

How had he not told Eddie?

_Fuck._

How had he _not?_

“Wait,” Richie reached up and put his hands on Eddie’s sides, keeping him anchored in place. He’d been about to bolt, Richie could tell. It was like figuring out how to speak a language he’d once been fluent in. Eddie had tensed up, ready to run as fast as his legs could carry him. “Wait. So you’re telling me that if one of us had just _said something_,” he looked up and met Eddie’s eyes, looking over the rims of his glasses. “That I could have been macking on you since middle school?”

Eddie choked on his laughter. “Wait, what?”

“I,” Richie started to say something else, then shook his head. “Can I show you?”

“…Show me.” Eddie nodded. For a moment, he looked surprised, like he had agreed without his brain ever once being aware of it until the words were out of his mouth. Surprisingly, he looked more confident in himself after a second, nodding again. He met Richie’s eyes. “Show me.”

Richie couldn’t help himself.

Starting at Eddie’s hips, he ran his thumbs across the delicate bones there, sliding his hands up and around. He lingered on his backside, but only for a second as he slid his hands up. Eddie’s back was warm, the faint scent of sweat and the warmth of him almost distracting Richie. He tugged Eddie down gently, until the other man was forced to put a knee into the edge of the bed between Richie’s knees to stay somewhat upright. Richie’s hands continued up his back, pressing gently into his spine before he curled his hands around the backs of Eddie’s shoulders.

He tugged again, pulling Eddie firmly against him.

Their noses brushed together and Richie would firmly deny doing anything so much as resembling nuzzling, but he could admit it to himself. Their noses moved and he leaned in slowly, letting Eddie choose.

Eddie’s lips pressed against his and they both almost jittered out of their skin, from the way their heartrates sped up. Richie leaned into the kiss fully, pressing Eddie against his front. He was approaching it like a shy teenager, but that was what Eddie seemed to be doing too. One of them moved slightly and the kiss deepened, teeth clacking for a second before Richie fixed the angle.

When they had to pull away to breathe, Richie nudged his forehead against Eddie’s, still holding him as close as possible. “That.” He whispered.

“Oh,” Eddie’s eyes were impossibly wide and so bright that Richie was worried he would start crying. “Fuck,” he chuckled. “You’re right, we could have been doing that _decades_ ago.”

Richie wasn’t going to tell him about how he’d carved their initials together.

That seemed like a lot to spring on a married man who had just admitted to liking him as a kid. Who maybe liked him as an adult?

He wasn’t quite sure, but the way that Eddie was staying in his lap was _something._

Bowers had _stabbed_ Eddie.

_Eddie._

The surge of anger in his gut was tinged with the fact that he was _grateful_ the fucker was dead. Bowers had stabbed Eddie in the face and Eddie had pulled the knife out of his own cheek and killed him with it. His little Eddie, his Eddie Spaghetti, his Eds. Self-defense in the most serious way and Richie couldn’t even care. Not when it let Eddie live – Bowers was still the same fucking psychotic asshole he’d always been.

“Hey,” Richie sat down next to Eddie, taking his hands in his own. “Eds?”

“You know I hate that,” Eddie’s eyes snapped to him, still sort of dazed. “Richie?”

“My fighter,” Richie chuckled. The others were distracted, trying to figure out what to do. They had left the room and Bowers’ body – the lobby was comfortable enough and the place was deserted except for them. “You finally beat Bowers.”

“He was going to k-kill me,” Eddie was shaking, his hands trembling so badly Richie thought he might shake apart. His cheek was still bleeding, his eyes so wide that Richie didn’t even have to look closely to see his younger self. “He was going to _kill me_—”

“And you killed him first, babe.” Richie lowered his voice, squeezing his fingers tightly in pulses. Squeeze, relax, squeeze, relax, until Eddie’s breathing was calming down and the pulse he could feel wasn’t rabbit-quick anymore. “Here,” he held both of Eddie’s hands in one of his own, then grabbed for the first aid kit he’d set on the chair next to him. “Let’s get your cheek cleaned up, hey Eds?”

“Yeah,” Eddie curled a hand around his wrist, looking at the first aid kit.

Richie managed a small smile, glancing up to see Bev looking at them with a raised eyebrow before she turned away and moved towards where Ben and Bill were standing. Ignoring that for the moment, Richie pulled out the supplies to help patch up Eddie’s face. He worked in silence, stroking his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand occasionally.

After what seemed like forever, Richie finally put the gauze and the pad over the cut. “There,” he whispered.

There was something like understanding in Eddie’s eyes, then. “This was never just…Bodily,” Eddie glanced down at the connection between them, still holding Richie’s wrist as Richie’s thumb stroked gently over his hand. “Was it?”

“Eddie,” Richie laughed a little, but there wasn’t much humor in the sound. “This has never been just about putting our bodies together and seeing what happened. I mean,” he snorted. “Yeah, you were the first guy I ever jerked to, but that wasn’t everything. Not nearly. You were always there and you were always…You were always someone I wanted,” he looked down at their hands – he couldn’t make eye contact with Eddie while he said this, that was too vulnerable, too much – and he quirked his mouth into something that could have been called a smile.

Everything felt foreboding, like a tidal wave of terror, a tsunami of It headed for the beach of their lives.

“If I’d been able to, I would have married you,” Richie muttered. “And yeah, that’s a lot – I’m a lot.”

Eddie’s hands were warm on the sides of his face. “Well,” he made a noise that could have been laughter in another life. The situation they were in wasn’t humorous in any way. There wasn’t room for joy, right then. “I’m married but that can change. We’d get it annulled. Divorced.”

Richie put one of his hands on the back of Eddie’s neck, the other on his uninjured cheek. “Fuck, Eds.” He leaned in, pressing their mouths together. “_Yes._”

_Oh god._

Richie’s eyes glazed over as he stared into the lights. Was this how Bev had felt, all those years ago?

Light.

Empty.

Hollow.

Like his body was filled with helium.

As his feet left the ground, he was struck with the image of her dangling in the air, her hands loose at her sides. Bev had floated. He was going to float. Like they were all going to float. Behind him, moving closer and stopping at the arch of the cave, he could hear Eddie.

It had been a crazy few days, Richie thought before his eyes rolled back and he lost track of which way was up.

He hadn’t even told Eddie he loved him.

Had always loved him.

He—

He dropped to the ground, groaning as pain shot through his entire body.

Eddie stood in front of him, backlight by the nightmare and looking triumphant. He halfway-smiled, something bright and beautiful in his expression – for the first time since he had come back to Derry, he carried some of the fighting spirit he had back then. The spirit that had made him scream in the face of his worst fear and go charging forward with a broken arm and fury as his biggest weapon.

Richie felt something creeping up his spine, a shiver of fear and panic—

He didn’t know why he grabbed Eddie’s hand, right then, but he tugged him down, causing him to land awkwardly in Richie’s lap. “Shit, Richie, what the fuc—”

His words were cut off as a sharp shape stabbed through the air where Eddie had been standing, curving down and through his shoulder instead. Richie curled around him, hissing out a string of profanities as he kept Eddie pressed against him, held to his chest as It tried to yank him away. Blood pooled out of his shoulder, the arm he’d broken as a kid curled around the back of Richie’s neck.

“Fuck you, you sloppy goddamned _bitch!” _Richie screamed as he tucked Eddie’s head against his shoulder. Eddie’s blood was splattered across his glasses, one of the lenses cracked, but he wasn’t going to let go of his boy.

His Eddie.

_Eddie._

Richie didn’t even pay that much attention as It’s sharp leg retreated, shucking his jacket off and balling it up to press it into the bleeding wound on Eddie’s shoulder. “C’mon Eddie,” he muttered, a breath rattling out of his chest. “I know I’m a lot to deal with but dying to get away from me seems a bit extreme…”

“You’re an idiot,” Eddie groaned, his hand curling around Richie’s wrist, holding tightly. His grip was strong, his face pale from how much pain he was in. There was a lot of blood, but it seemed to be slowing as Richie pressed his jacket down. “I already signed on for the Tozier life experience – not leaving without that.” He winced, his eyes going unfocused. “That stupid fucking _clown_,” his nose scrunched up as he jammed the back of his head against the ground. “This shit _hurts._”

Glancing to the side, Richie spotted the rest of the Losers heading for it. Bev seemed to be covered in blood if he looked at her the right way, Ben was coated in dirt. Bill was soaked through, looking a little like a drowned rat.

“I think they need my help,” Richie looked back down at Eddie. “Our help.”

“I’m not making it over there right now,” Eddie groaned as he tried to sit up. “My shoulder’s fucked. Go help them—what are you doing?”

Richie grinned, lifting him up a little further. He leaned him against the wall, brushing his messy hair out of his face. “Getting you off the floor, Eds. You stay right here, got it? I’ll be back over here for you – I’m not leaving you in this fucking shithole. I get my way, I’m never leaving you ever again.” He glanced over at their friends, fighting back the nightmare version of Pennywise.

Not that It hadn’t always been a nightmare, but this fucking form was taking it even further than before.

“Fuck,” Eddie reached up and curled a hand in his hair, dragging him in and shoving their mouths together. They didn’t have time to make the kiss good, much less great, but the contact between them was perfect somehow.

“We’ll work on that,” Eddie pressed Richie’s coat against his shoulder tightly, lifting a leg and nudging him away. “Go fuck It up.”

“Gotcha covered, babe,” Richie stood up and saluted him, turning on his heel and rushing for where their friends were.

The Losers that were left standing still included Eddie.

That was all he needed, right then.

Bev ended up helping him carry Eddie out, her hand steadying both of them as they climbed through the tunnels.

“You’re going to need a lot of physical therapy on your shoulder when this is all over,” Ben muttered as they all watched the Neibolt house collapse in front of them. Eddie was slung across Richie’s shoulders, his damaged shoulder being checked over by Bev. Richie’s jacket was soaked in blood but seemed to have done what they wanted – Eddie’s shoulder had mostly stopped bleeding. He would still need the hospital, but he wasn’t dead.

Richie was going to count that as a victory.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s nose wrinkled as he looked at his shirt, soaked in blood and torn apart. “Richie, if you hadn’t…If you hadn’t pulled me down, It would have gone directly through my chest.”

“Don’t fucking say that,” Richie’s hand curled in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt, knuckles white, his eyes never leaving the wreckage, like he was waiting for It to come climbing out after them. A nightmare ended after almost thirty years wasn’t going to leave them so quickly, despite having crushed It’s heart in their bare hands. “_Please._”

“Okay,” Eddie looked up at him. “Richie?”

“Hm?”

“Richie.”

Richie looked down at him. “Eds?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Eddie moved until he could grab Richie’s collar and drag him down into another kiss. This time, without the threat of death looming over them, they could make the movement work perfectly. Bill and Mike turned to say something then and both of them stopped in their tracks.

“What,” Bill blinked a couple of times.

“And how goddamn long did you two take for this?” Mike looked like he wanted to start laughing and maybe never stop.

“My heart burns there too,” Bev muttered, taking Ben’s hand. “So I guess we’re not the only Losers who had some unresolved romance. Tell me, Richie, did you give him any poetry?”

“Nah,” Richie spoke against Eddie’s lips, wrapping an arm around his waist. “He just got his pigtails pulled. I was an asshole like that.” He pressed their foreheads together, then shoved his face into Eddie’s neck. “Eds, you could have died. You might have—”

“I didn’t,” Eddie shook his head. “I didn’t, Richie, I _didn’t_—”

“But you could have—”

“_I didn’t—”_

Richie pressed their lips together again, nearly sobbing as he did. His hands were curled around Eddie, holding him so closely they were almost impossible to separate. Eddie leaned into him, his injured shoulder making one arm deadweight but his other keeping him anchored on Richie. In the background, Bill smiled and Mike gave a small cheer. It was half-sarcastic, but wholehearted all the same. “I can’t believe we fucking survived,” Richie muttered against Eddie’s mouth.

“But we _did._” Eddie leaned into him again, jamming his forehead against Richie’s shoulder. “Fuck me, I’m going to run away with Richie fucking Tozier, everyone.”

“Good,” Bev leaned over and ruffled his hair, grinning. “I’m running off with Ben, want to race to see who gets married first?” she pointed a finger at Richie. “You’d better take care of him, Richie, I don’t want to have to hurt you.” When he laughed, she did too. All of them did, after a few minutes.

The laughter felt good.

“Too bad Stan isn’t here to see this,” Bill said, his voice somber. “He’d have laughed and told us all he saw this coming.”

They quieted down again. Eddie’s hand found Richie’s, squeezing tightly.

The debris of the Neibolt house was still throwing dust into the air, some of the particulate probably from It’s cavern all those miles away and down. They all stared for a couple more minutes before they moved as one, walking away together. Eddie’s hand stayed curled in Richie’s the entire walk back. Bev stayed tucked against Ben’s side, her hands wrapped around his arm, a smile on her face as she occasionally nudged her nose against his shoulder.

Mike and Bill walked behind the two sets, like they were overseeing and protecting.

If Richie thought about him long enough, he could almost feel Stan walking with them. A memory of him, of them all as children. He’d gone to Stan’s Bar Mitzvah, heard him stand up to his dad in the biggest and best way he could. “We’ll always be Losers,” he muttered, leaning over to kiss Eddie’s forehead.

“Yeah,” Eddie winced as his shoulder jolted, but he nodded. “And I’m serious – signing on for the life experience.”

He had said that before, but there was something about this time that made Richie look at him, eyes wide. Maybe it was the fact that Eddie was smiling, maybe it was that he was still holding Richie’s hand in front of their friends. This time, he believed him. He couldn’t brush the words off as a joke, couldn’t make himself say anything ridiculous about Eddie. “Good,” his voice cracked on the word, tears building up in his eyes.

Up ahead was the cliff that dropped in the quarry.

Once they jumped off of the edge, hit the water, their nightmare would be washed away. He knew that, somehow. They would remember this time, remember everything they had been through together and everything that had happened. Everything they had done.

“I know a couple of divorce lawyers,” Richie told Eddie quietly. “Sort-of-friends of mine. They’ll help you out without wanting too much in return.”

“Good,” Eddie stopped and let Bev take a look at his shoulder. “We’ll get in contact with them.”

His smile felt like the air clearing, the moment the sun came out from behind the clouds and started drying out the rain. Richie smiled back, his nose wrinkling. “Fuck, I’m gay,” he muttered.

“Rich?” Bev looked up at him.

“I’m gay,” he said again, louder this time. No dirty little secrets for him, not anymore. Not ever again. “Like…Really gay. Especially for Eddie, over there—god, Eds, you’re great in this light – and I needed to say that out loud. Fuckass taunted me with it,” he shook his head. “But a dirty secret isn’t a dirty secret if everybody knows and I’m in love.”

Eddie laughed, moving away from Bev to lean up and drag Richie down into another kiss. “C’mon,” he looked like he was tearing up, a sound catching in his throat. “Before I change my mind.”

He watched as Bev dove off the cliff and into the water.

All of them followed, one last moment of their childhood being re-lived.

In the water, Eddie’s hand found his again, both of them spluttering and wiping water off of their faces. Bill laughed and splashed them all, his eyes wide and clear. There were a couple of ghosts watching them, Richie knew – Stan and Georgie stood at the sidelines, hopefully cheering them on. One day, some higher power or some bullshit like that willing, they would see them again.

But for now, they were all safe and alive.

They had made it through the battle and Eddie was going to stay with him. He would do his best to make goddamn sure his Eds was the happiest man on earth, starting with helping him get divorced.

They curled together, just holding each other for a while.

They weren’t going to forget again.

**Author's Note:**

> Look. 
> 
> LOOK.
> 
> I KNOW I already have an AU where Eddie lives and Stan lives and all that good shit. But guess what. I DO NOT CARE.  
I wrote that before the second movie came out! It's based on the book and on the original miniseries! Eddie lost his arm in that one but still lived. Stan managed to pull through by the skin of his fucking teeth in that AU. In this one, Richie has a flash of psychic power and PULLS HIS GODDAMN BOY OUT OF THE WAY. 
> 
> So. Have this. My heart is fucking broken over these two. And that fucking movie. AHHHHHH. I hope this is at least somewhat good.


End file.
